


honoring the ghosts

by tado



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tado/pseuds/tado
Summary: The girl could feel the poison seeping into her bloodstream, draining her chakra with each passing instant. Her mind started spinning into a new forming panic because with the recognition that Shisui did not plan to execute her came the trivial understanding that ahead of her was life, full of explanations and apologies.- This here is, - continued Shisui, as he tied a knot around her wrists, - a prime suspect in the massacre of the Uchiha clan two years ago.She jolted in a pointless attempt to escape his grip. Shisui put his hands on her shoulders, holding her down while the drug continued to fog her mind into unconsciousness.- I intend to apprehend her, - went on Uchiha with an informative intonation that excluded any possibility of negotiation, letting go of the girl. She fell on her side, restrained and silent. His Sharingan fired up with a mixture of a threat and a warning.
Relationships: Uchiha Shisui / Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

Hiromi sat down with a tangible hesitance. Her legs felt tense as she folded them under herself, and the large, unhealed bruise around her right calf pressed against the firm material of the tatami. Just below her left thigh there was a cut threatening to open and bleed, causing Hiromi minor discomfort. She pulled a strand of her snow white hair, distracting herself both from the pain and the shinobi whose table she had joined.

\- I thought you would be dead by now, - she heard him. His voice was casual and matter of fact about the expectation. Part of him was, perhaps, even hopeful that was the case.

Hiromi breathed in, throwing a glance down at the table. The surface of the tea in the small, round cup was so still that she could see the light as it reflected from the lamps hanging just beside her face. Mild ripples spread to the edges of the green ceramic glass, while the shining dot floated in a circle of negligible radius. The tea was now cold enough that there was no steam rising through the warm, humid air, allowing her to see the shinobi sitting across her with no obstructions.

\- I thought so, too, - admitted Hiromi with a stinging feeling twisting her stomach.

Letting go of the hair strand, her fingertips brushed the smooth, transparent lamination of the cup, as if winning some time to gain the courage required to hold it. Her nails - a notch longer than desirable for someone handling others' food, rang at the coating with a dull sound, and Hiromi pulled her hands back, hiding them under the table. Her palms rested on her thighs, apart from each other, on the crude brown fabric of the cheap hakama. She inhaled with an increasing sense of fear coiling her lungs, as she raised her sight at the shinobi.

He didn't change much since she last met him. He was wearing his standard uniform, with the protector now tied around his upper arm instead of his forehead. The hair framed his soft, fair face with short, brown curls. There were new scars framing his expressive, large eyes in an odd web of cuts and tears, hinting at severe injuries he must have sustained. Hiromi hurried to drop her head down again, avoiding the possibility of catching a lasting eye contact with him.

\- I was told that you were... - she started, and paused at once, confused about how to continue. She could sense how the shinobi was staring at her with a calm, penetrating concentration. Unwilling to finish the sentence, Hiromi tensed up as the strand of her snow white hair fell on her face, curtaining her sight. It felt warm, comforting, as if shielding her from her circumstances. 

\- Yes, - nodded the shinobi after a second's pause. He gave out an almost nostalgic, faint smile as he got reminded of the time Hiromi was referring to. - I imagine that you were.

He felt disoriented, trapped, forced to choose a side as their unexpected meeting was hard on him just about as much as it was hard on her. He wasn’t afraid of Hiromi - at least not in the same sense as she was of him, but he was unsure of what was going to happen next. He has been sitting there on his own for hours, waiting for Hiromi to react to his presence and contemplating the implications of coming across her. Something stung him as he recognized that she had lost most of the unique features that once made her the exceptional shinobi he remembered her as. She was now blending into the monotone, peaceful setting of this small, off road inn, quiet and humble, as if she belonged there. 

The shinobi felt complicit and remorseful, as if he had a part in the choices that led her here, into a hiding.

\- Itachi-san was accused of murder, - said Hiromi, her voice sounding firm for once, - when you… you were assumed dead.

In a second she hung her head even lower, apologetic of the possible offense. Her vision field focused down on a narrow strip of her wrists framed between the table top and her own flat chest. There was a rugged, bright scar cutting through the large round bone, and up along the side of her right hand.

\- That he did not do, - followed the response in the same mild and matter of fact voice, not offended in the slightest. - It was a suicide. Well, - he stopped to run a hand through his hair, brushing off a strand of white that did not seem to belong there, - an attempted suicide, anyway.

\- I am glad that it failed, - informed Hiromi, although unsure whether doing so was a good idea. She smiled a shallow, short lasting smile, hoping the shinobi would believe she was being honest.

The weather was getting colder as the sun set behind the dense forest separating the small, quiet inn from the rest of the world. The twilight fell, and a chill wind started rising, threatening to interfere with the delicate paper lamps decorating the terrace of the dining hall. Hiromi pulled down the sleeve of her plain, cream-colored shitagi down her hand, over the white bandages wrapping her forearm. It was time to close down the diner of the inn, but, instead of getting up and excusing herself, she remained as she was, her head down, handing her free will over to the shinobi sitting in front of her, for the fear she felt of him had morphed into a consuming, paralysing feeling of guilt.

\- I see, - he smiled in response, uncertain himself whether he believed her or not.

Stretching, he helped himself to a cube of sugar from the box of sugar cubes that came with his order of the tea. He dropped it into his half-consumed beverage, thoughtful on what to do next, even though what was required of him was rather clear. Still, he was hesitant to act, and could not explain the reasons for it. 

For one thing, the shinobi realised, Hiromi appeared less than a shadow of her former self, frail and weak. It was hard to connect her with the person he fought beside once. Instead of the uniform designed for combat, she now wore simple, traditional clothing, fit for her demanding, fast paced job at the inn. Her hair was tied in a loose, low tail and her face was clear of the paint she used to wear. There was a scar across the bridge of her nose that had turned a pleasant peach color and was about to disappear. The bones on her face and on her hands had become much better defined as she had become thinner.

While recording all those details, the shinobi felt an unsettling combination of softness and anger rising in him. He drew a sharp breath, suppressing those feelings. Confronted with the understanding that Hiromi was one of the few people that could tell him what happened to his clan, he couldn’t help but to drown in a spiral of guesses and speculations, questioning what she did before fleeing the village. He was scared of what the truth might be, and at the same time relieved that he found her safe, breathing and in one piece.

Hiromi sat in silence, letting the gentle wind blow through her hair and clothes, waiting for him to come to a decision. She was under the impression that she was prepared to accept it regardless of what it would be. What started as fear and had morphed into guilt, had now transformed into an excruciating pain of letting him down, piercing her heart in ten thousands of thorns, cutting sharper than a fine blade, compelling her to follow his wishes.

\- So, - exhaled the shinobi after a long pause, sliding the untouched cup of tea closer to her. He was regretful, wishing that he was able to trust her. - Douzo.

Hiromi nodded. When placing the order on the table, she noticed him slipping in a couple of drops of some transparent, odorless liquid into the cup she was offered. Still, her first instinct was to do as he commanded.

She put her hands on both sides of the cup, flat on the table, hesitant to her own surprise. Until this second Hiromi thought that when her past would come after her, she would accept the consequences without a question. But now, about to ingest a poison of some sort, she was confronted with a realisation that there still were things in her meaningless life she was afraid to lose. She turned her head to a side, postponing the moment when she would have to either do as told, or fight for the right not to. 

The shinobi, measured and patient, leaned forward and touched the handle of the short sword attached to his lower back, as he sensed a person with high enough levels of chakra approaching them. He wanted to be prepared for a possible combat. However, soon figuring that she didn’t pose much of a threat, he let the sword slide back into its sheath, and straightened up, concentrating all his attention on Hiromi. Hiromi, sensing the same person herself, had turned towards him. Her almond shaped green eyes were enlarged, full of fear, as if begging him to change his mind and let her go. That confused the shinobi at first, then pushed him to decide what he wanted to do.

\- Rouka-chan! - called the person approaching them.

She was a stunning, middle aged woman with long, light-blonde hair tied up in a tail. She had on a similar attire to that of Hiromi, but hers was newer and decorated with patterns. The missing distal phalanx of her right thumb and the subtle limp were indicating a past of a shinobi, which she had abandoned to build a large, profitable inn at the border of the Land of Fire and her native Land of Rivers.

Hiromi tried to breathe in, and failed. First, she felt conscious of wasting time while she was supposed to be working. What was more pressing, however, was the fact that her boss was about to get involved in a potential conflict on her behalf, and there was no outcome to that Hiromi would have been content with.

\- Rouka, huh, - echoed the shinobi with a slight judgement and just a dash of appreciation for Hiromi choosing that name for herself, as he shaped his hands into a seal.

Hiromi immediately recognized the technique he was about to perform, but, before she was able to react, found herself folded in half from a sudden pain in her lower chest and shoulders. Coughing out, she struggled to breathe even more.

\- What is going on here?! - demanded Matsuko Murugi - the owner of the inn, as she stopped near them.

Hiromi had her hands twisted behind her back, with the cup held a fraction of an inch away from her lips, in the small space between her face and her knees. The cut on her leg opened, claiming some of her attention as it bled into the hakama she had on. It wasn’t the pain that distracted Hiromi, it was the awareness that the clothing wasn’t her own, and that she had failed to treat it with proper care. 

\- Good evening, Murugi-san, - she heard the voice of her friend, who was now sitting right next to her on the floor.

The southing smell of the boiled mint of the tea hit Hiromi’s nose, creating an unpleasant contrast with what she knew she was about to experience. The shinobi pulled her hands tighter together, forcing her spine to arch. She resisted bending along until his knee hit her at the chin, pushing her head towards the ground just enough to part her lips, while he pressed the cup against her teeth.

\- I apologise for the… inconvenience, I suppose, - continued the shinobi with a genuine smile, casual and polite, as if nothing happened. 

Hiromi, coming to terms with her situation, and hoping to prevent Matsuko from getting involved further, opened her mouth herself. Humiliating and embarrassing it was, she also believed she owed it to the shinobi who was now restraining her with no apparent regard for her wellbeing. Without missing a beat, he poured the warm tea right down her throat, all at once.

\- My name is Shisui Uchiha, - he introduced himself, feeling more confident and relaxed now, and put the empty cup back on the table. - I am a jonin of the Hidden Leaf.

Still holding Hiromi’s hands together, Shisui turned her around, such that she was left facing the garden, excluded from the conversation he was starting with Matsuko Murugi, who was worried about where that conversation was going, but was not surprised.

Hiromi could feel the poison seeping into her bloodstream, draining her chakra with each passing instant. Her mind started spinning into a new forming panic because with the recognition that Shisui did not plan to execute her came the trivial understanding that ahead of her was life, full of explanations and apologies.

\- This is Hiromi Kaguya, - continued Shisui, as he tied a knot around her wrists, - a prime suspect in the massacre of the Uchiha clan two years ago.

Hiromi jolted in a pointless attempt to escape his grip. He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her down while the drug continued to fog her mind into unconsciousness.

\- I intend to apprehend her, - went on Uchiha with an informative intonation that excluded any possibility of negotiation, letting go of Hiromi. She fell on her side, restrained and silent. - I hope for your… understanding and cooperation, Murugi-san, - he concluded, giving the woman a glimpse at his Sharingan, with a mixture of a threat and a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all and any feedback is welcome ~


	2. The Ghost #03: that of rejection | chapter 01

Hiromi spasmed, clenching her hands into fists. Her fingernails - long and sharp enough to cut into her palms, drew thin crescents of blood on her pale skin. Her jugular vein bulged for a fraction of a second as she inhaled in with a loud sound, stretching her head across the bamboo floor tiles. Her shoulders were curled outwards at an unnatural angle, and small beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.

Shisui sat up straight, ignoring the now unconscious girl. He crossed his arms across his chest, letting his doujutsu fade away. The sharp pressure he felt deep in his brain disappeared, allowing him to concentrate on the bigger picture. He gave the owner of the inn a nod, as if acknowledging her presence and possible confusion. Uchiha admitted to himself, not without a surprise, that although the woman was nowhere strong enough to obstruct him, there was something intimidating about her age and the apparent peacefulness with which she reacted to his claims and actions.

Upon realising that she was no longer under the immediate danger of a genjutsu, Matsuko felt her heartbeat slow down. It was an unpleasant, familiar sense of helplessness and an existential fear that had creeped into her the moment her customer shined his Sharingans on her, cutting her air and clouding her mind. Coming out of that short crisis, the woman had a sigh and decided to join the shinobi at his table. 

\- Is Rouka-chan in pain? - she asked, as she sat down. Her voice was flat. She made an effort to appear calm and collected, somehow managing to both express her respect for a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf and assert her authority at her own establishment.

\- Shouldn’t be, - answered Shisui with some hesitation. He too sounded calm and disengaged, and not without much effort.

Hiromi was now still and silent, with just her chest slowly rising and flattening as she breathed. Her muscles had relaxed, unfolding her fists into awkward, half-curled shapes. Her face, with strands of hair covering half of it, was turned towards the garden. The lights of the paper lamps decorating the terrace were soft and unstable, and she appeared even thinner and smaller than a few minutes ago. Her feet - bare, covered in cuts, bruises and scars, had acquired a pale blue hue as the weather was getting colder.

\- I imagine you might have other questions, - stated Shisui, offering Matsuko an opportunity to ask those questions.

Murugi did not respond to him at once. Instead, she reached out for the green ceramic cup the contents of which had rendered a member of her staff unconscious, and slid a finger across its edge, feeling for the traces of the liquid. The couple of small, light brown drops left behind were just a little thicker than she would expect from tea. Collecting one of them at the tip of her index finger, the former shinobi breathed in its smell, and, after a moment's consideration, applied it to her tongue to get the taste. Pleased at being able to detect the general properties of the agent that was used and confirm that it wasn’t lethal, Matsuko exhaled with relief.

\- I doubt this was necessary, - she said with a little judgement.

\- I would rather not fight her when she is at her best, - paired Shisui, despite not being confident that the drug or its dosage were chosen right. 

Dissatisfied with the answer, Matsuko dropped the cup back on the table, letting it rotate around for a second before hitting the teapot and turning on a side. She breathed in, raising her sight back at the shinobi, collecting her thoughts and the courage to voice those thoughts.

\- If possible, Uchiha-san, - she was serious, but also careful to not sound more challenging than she could answer for. - I would prefer it if Rouka-chan were to remain here, with us.

\- Kaguya Hiromi, - said Shisui, the taste of her full formal name - sharp, sour and foreign, filling his mouth. He wanted to spit it right out. Feeling doubts crawl up in his mind, Uchiha hurried to remind himself, as much as to remind Matsuko. - Kaguya Hiromi is a suspect in the case of the Uchiha clan.

Shisui paused, allowing the woman to process what he said and understand its implications. Murugi, having heard him the first time, smiled in indecision and reached for the cup she had thrown on the table to turn it upright, pushing the shinobi to continue, to give up more about his intentions and attitude.

\- But, - he said, impressed that Hiromi had come to be associated with people that were protective of her even in the face of such grave accusations, - you don’t believe that, do you?

\- It wouldn’t surprise me if the suspicion was true, - admitted Matsuko easily, as a matter of fact. - But I don’t immediately believe that either. - She turned her sight down, towards the table, worried that the shinobi might be at the verge of losing his patience. - Either way, Rouka-chan… has no capacity to harm anyone.

Matsuko presenting Hiromi's debilitation almost as an argument in an attempt to persuade him not to arrest her was odd. It felt wrong, borderline outrageous, and Shisui was curious to hear what the woman might say next. He hummed a confirmation, half agreeing with the observation, half inviting her to continue.

\- If that means anything, Uchiha-san, I trust her, - said Murugi. She pulled the empty cup from the opposite side of the table and stacked it on top of the one close to her. Two ceramic surfaces collided with a pleasant ringing sound. - Whatever Rouka-chan has done before I met her, has left her…

Shisui drew in a sharp breath of the cold night air, accidentally interrupting the sentence. Matsuko, catching the minute twitch on his otherwise inanimate face, wondered whether his feelings towards the ninja accused of murdering his entire clan might be more complicated than it would appear from the first sight.

\- Broken.

\- Broken, - echoed Uchiha, smirking. That was expected, he thought. In a sense, that was also comforting, reassuring him that, at least, Hiromi had a hard time coping with what had happened.

Matsuko nodded. She raised the wooden tray the tea was served on from the floor and put it on top of her thighs, granting Shisui half a second of silence. 

\- I am afraid that going back to the Hidden Leaf will break her again, - she said, while placing the tea set back on the tray. Her voice was plain and narrating, almost independent from the sensitive nature of her words.

Shisui, after a moment’s consideration, concluded that the concern made perfect sense. 

The fact that Hiromi has been doing things since she left the village was coming to him gradually, in pieces, infuriating him in the most powerless sense of the word. While he was boiling in grief, confusion and unanswered questions, pushing away his remaining friends and ignoring his most basic responsibilities, Hiromi was, apparently, healing. So much so that her boss was now worried she might get hurt when exposed to her past, or the consequences of it. She had embraced her new life, Shisui realized, and that made him jealous, resentful, mad, and, most of all, hurt himself.

\- When Rouka-chan got here…

Murugi looked up from the tray. She took a deep breath. There was something weighing on her chest, constraining her lungs as she tried to contain her worries and her understanding that there was nothing she could do for the teenage shinobi she once invited to her home and assumed responsibility for.

\- She was so beaten up that I didn't think she would survive. I am not sure she wanted to.

Shisui threw a glance towards the main building, as if wanting to distract himself. His smirk disappeared. The new crumb of information rushed through his head in a burning crimson flash, overriding his anger and contempt. Turned out, he didn't hate Hiromi enough to hold on to that anger and contempt. 

The more grounded, practical part of him wondered whether being beaten up would suggest that she had been combating the men of his clan, and thus be circumstantial evidence of Hiromi’s guilt in the massacre. However, Uchiha didn’t get to finish the thought as he recorded two people getting close to himself, his prisoner and the woman he was talking with.

The first was one of his three genin students, entering the premises of the inn. His pace was slow, and his ninken appeared to be already asleep. Shisui could tell that they were exhausted from training, and conclude that it might not be the best idea for his team to get on the road right away. The original plan was to spend the night at the inn and rest from their uncomplicated, but long and taxing mission in Suna anyway.

The second was a young man, rushing towards their table from at least the second floor. He was perhaps about the same age as Shisui, and, although didn’t seem to be a competent ninja, Uchiha found himself with both his Sharingans activated. In a moment, figuring that there is still at least half a minute before either of those two reach them, he relaxed, getting his doujutsu to deactivate. Concentrating chakra in the eyes upon a perceived threat, no matter how vague, was an immediate reaction Shisui, to his genuine frustration, did not have a full control over. 

\- I apologize, Murugi-san, - he said sincerely, understanding that it perhaps did not come across that way to the woman. - Please, continue.

\- I do not have a reason to mistrust you, Uchiha-san, - hurried to assure Matsuko, worried that she might have said the wrong thing. - Still… I care about Rouka-chan.

\- I can tell, - smiled Shisui. His tone was quite gentle, yet there was a sense of finiteness, irreversibility and even a hint of dismissiveness in it as well.

Murugi felt her posture decompose and her shoulders bend inwards, as she came to accept that the jonin of the Hidden Leaf, as polite as he was, had no interest in changing his mind one single bit. With a subtle nod, Matsuko exhaled. She had to let go of her attachment to Rouka, she thought, and with the articulation of that understanding came the full and unconditional acceptance.

\- I hope that you will treat her... with due care, too, Uchiha-san. 

In the back of her mind the former shinobi wrestled with a few strains of thought. First, she wondered whether she had volunteered any information that might hurt the girl in the future. She believed that the person she had sheltered for years was not a mass murderer, and, independently from that, that there was still a future for her. Second, Matsuko wondered, with a generous bit of justified hope, whether Shisui would treat his captive with compassion or would abuse his position to get revenge. Third, she wondered about practical, perhaps less important things - such as how soon she’d have to hire someone to replace Rouka, if she could afford that at all.

Uchiha was glad to see the situation de escalating - at least, the first act of it. His smile widened, however, giving his face a shade of amusement and condescension as he watched the aforementioned young man exit the main building at an impressive speed, almost tripping over himself as he did so.

Expecting him to demand that Hiromi be let alone with less thoughtfulness, Shisui turned towards the girl. His left hand stretched to the handle of his short sword, just in case she wasn’t in the state he expected her to be. Reassured that Kaguya was still unconscious and in no shape to escape, Shisui let go of the tanto and sat up straight again. There was a sense of hopelessness, sadness and disappointment in that feeling of reassurement as well.

The man came to stop just an inch away from them. His towering figure - quite intimidating to an average person, tall and rather wide in the shoulders, cast a shadow across Shisui’s face. He had on a simple cream-colored shitagi and a navy blue hakama, suggesting that his position at the inn must be comparable to that of Hiromi. He was distressed, animated, full of questions and steam.

\- Minoru, - recognized Matsuko before he had a chance to say anything. Her voice acquired a note of command, requesting subordination she was used to. - Have a seat.

\- Okaa-san, - whispered the man half-audibly, a little defeated, following the order with some visible detest. 

Once he sat down, his beautiful, symmetrical face got illuminated with the unstable light of the paper lamps hanging from the roof. His hair was a bright green color, neatly tied in a low tail. He had large and rather expressive dark eyes, shooting fire at the stranger who, in his opinion, was in the wrong to assault his coworker. 

\- Good evening, - greeted Shisui. Polite, but intent to assume the leading role in the conversation.

Minoru nodded in response, careful as to not express much friendliness. His lips were pressed tight together, and his fists were slightly shaking. His attention was pinned on Hiromi, and he was itching to do something - even if it was something aggressive or stupid, to help her. What was restraining him wasn’t so much the rational caution to avoid confronting a trained shinobi, as it was the presence of his mother, who was never encouraging of violence. In addition, the apparent agreement Uchiha has reached with her was disarming and confusing to Minoru, in a sense stripping him of the freedom to object to him without objecting to his mother as well.

Still, Minoru wanted to stand up for Rouka. The relationship with her, perhaps, was one of the most valued and most complicated relationships he had in his quiet, serene life. The world of shinobi his parents sheltered him from - despite his natural talent for combat and desire to fight, has left a very tangible, visible impact on her. She was damaged, leading Minoru to appreciate the safety he grew up in, and to come to care for her in an honest, genuine manner.

\- Okaa-san, - he started, careful, but determined to advocate for the girl. - Is Rouka-chan going to?...

\- Oi, Shisui-sensei! 

The interruption came in the form of an excited genin, climbing up the terrace and landing with a loud sound, unbecoming of a good ninja. The ninken - a small, white dog, awakened either from the turbulence or from the scream, in his turn jumped out of the light purple coat of his shinobi. He dropped near Shisui and stretched his head forward, smelling the new people that have now become of interest.

\- Hi there, - went on Kiba, carelessly greeting Minoru and Matsuko. - Who is this? - he asked, gesturing at Hiromi.

Inuzuka then proceeded to get comfortable without anyone’s explicit invitation. He took a seat, with his legs crossed in front of himself, in between his teacher and the rather unremarkable waiter girl he captured. His presence - radiating genuine curiosity battling against his tiredness, in itself somehow discharged the environment, getting most of the attention on him.

\- Kiba-kun, - exhaled Uchiha, mildly annoyed. It was not exactly unexpected, he thought, as Kiba was straight-forward and did not have a tendency to overthink nuanced things. The jonin paused, deciding how to refer to Hiromi. - This here, - he said, unable to make up his mind at the moment, - will be coming with us to Konoha. Murugi-san, Minoru-san, - he continued, cordial and just a little apologetic. - I do not want to cause you inconvenience… or pain.

Shisui forced two fingers under the rope wrapped around Hiromi’s wrists and, getting a grip at it, pulled her closer to himself. Her body, following the drag, bent into an unnatural shape, threatening to snap a bone out of its place. Feeling her waist touch his leg, Uchiha felt a pinch at the bottom of his stomach. For an instant it was almost as if Hiromi was an inanimate object, at least one in his undisputed possession.

\- We will leave tomorrow afternoon. - he said, standing up and lifting Hiromi’s unconscious body with him. - She will be awake by the morning. You can talk to her then, if you’d like.


End file.
